She Only Sings in Secret

She only sings in

secret,

and I think it's only

fitting.

a broken dog for

a

broken girl,

and now they could face the

big

bad

world.

sundays are meant

for sharing ice cream cones,

and reading

big

books. they're also meant for

throwing balls,

even if she only

buries

them like

bones.

She took three years

to learn to

shake, but only two to master

the lick of my face.

I was always sure

she was quite the pansy,

until the smallest of terriers tried to

bite me and she

got

angry.

so now there's simply not

a

way

for us to part,

even at the library

she will wait

happily

in the car.

which means that

a broken dog and

a broken girl,

came together and fixed

each other's

worlds.

but she still refuses to

sing

with me,

because that would be

far

too

crazy.